


Dead Flower

by arttselen



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blood, Bloody Roses - Freeform, Centric, M/M, bang chan - Freeform, blood and death, slightly gore, stray kids - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arttselen/pseuds/arttselen
Summary: Christopher needed to triumph, to have his eyes shining as he glimpsed the crimson tone of the pale flower withering to the end of life.
Kudos: 3





	Dead Flower

**_ –  chase the prey ,  because we cannot stand a  survivor . _ **

Bang Christopher ran, against the wind and the weather, laughing towards the cold night. It was finally December, the icy weather was present and soon the snow would fall, to shelter with appreciation in everyone the Christmas spirit. But for Christopher, the snow that was fortunate only to erase his tracks, clear his existence in his beloved scenarios, and reduces it to nothing. At the same time, the crucial piece exhales his last breaths of life. And it was for this stinging pleasure that he launched himself into his prey, panting in a sharp eagerness to silence their voices. 

_You_ _are_ _useless_ _, Christopher._ _You_ _let_ _it_ _slip_ _away_ _._

_You_ _,_ _Bang_ _Christopher, do_ _not_ _have_ _the_ _capacity_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _leader_ _._

_You_ _are_ _never_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _the_ _boss._

_You_ _do_ _not_ _cultivate_ _with_ _care_ _the_ _lives_ _of_ _your_ _sacrifices_ _._

_You_ _, Chris, are_ _null_ _and_ _void_ _;_ _just_ _as it_ _should_ _be_ _the_ _life_ _of_ _our_ _sweet_ _flowers_ _._

_Chase_ _the_ _martyr_ _,_ _because_ _we_ _do_ _not_ _tolerate_ _survivors_ _._

Untied in the afflicted of insanity, he laughed cheerfully as his prey’s eyes were wide in fear. Oh, how much does this little animal estimate their life? Certainly, these are their defense mechanisms in horror at my delight. 

Finally, Christopher could breathe, panting in contentment upon reaching his desired target. The opportune blade that he carried for his moments of prime in his hands, firm while plucking the stem from his vitality. The brown orbs contemplated the overflow of the red liquid in the fertile land. Christopher was triumphing over the glimpse of the crimson tone from the evanesce of the pale flower, to wither to the end of life. 

“Gentle killers leave no survivors for torments.” 


End file.
